Sir Charles
Mackerras’ 80th Birthday Concert opened with a briskly paced
performance of Richard Wagner’s Tannhäuser Prelude & Venusberg
Music.
What let this performance down was the rather rough and lack-lustre playing of
the Philharmonia Orchestra, further impeded by the muffled QEH acoustic. The
trombones often came across as coarse grained and far too loud whilst the
strings were harsh and strident, lacking the sensuous sheen required of them.
Unfortunately the eight double basses spanning the rear of the stage were barely
– if ever – audible and might as well have not been there.

In the camp bacchanale
the woodwind were far too recessed and were further drowned out by the hard and
metallic percussion that merely sounded noisy rather than brilliant, with the
cymbals, tambourine and castanets lacking the sense of burlesque so essential
here. Timpanist Andrew Smith sounded unusually reserved and was further
restrained by being placed too far backstage, behind the wall of double basses.

Due to the
restricted size of the stage the all important ‘spaces’ between instruments
could not be heard, neither could we hear the ‘silences’ between the notes:
orchestral textures were blurred and congested and all was in your face.
However, in the quieter closing passages things improved somewhat with the
eloquent violas and woodwind suddenly taking on a serene sensitivity – if only
all too briefly and late.

The legendary Alfred Brendel’s
performance of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27, K. 595 was pure poetry
from beginning to end. Brendel made the work sound newly minted, freshly
composed as if Mozart himself was there improvising on the spot with rococo
ornamentations of his own. This was the closest I could possibly imagine to what
Mozart might have sounded like. With Brendel nothing ever sounded over rehearsed
or planned ahead, and there was a risky and playful element giving the sensation
of leaving things to chance.

In the Allegro Brendel
played like an agile angel, hovering and fleeting with his fingers like
fluttering wings barely touching the keyboard whilst the Larghetto had an
eloquent simplicity combined with an extraordinary range of tone, colour and
mood, beyond sounding merely like notes for notes sake. The concluding
allegro had a breathtaking flexibility with Brendel sounding like a child at
play, as if extemporising - such is the spirit and sign of true genius – making
it all look so easy.

Whilst
Mackerras’ accompaniment was sensitive and perfectly paced and integrated with
the soloist, the Philharmonia strings sounded a little anaemic and wiry, whilst
the four cellos and two double basses simply lacked presence and weight and
unbalanced the orchestral textures. The woodwind again seemed to be rather too
recessed and maybe should have been more forward and even elevated on a platform
to give better projection (as Klemperer had done in his performance of
Beethoven’s Fidelio at Covent Garden in 1961).

Robert Schumann’s poetic
description of Franz Schubert’s Great C major Symphony as being of
‘heavenly length’ seemed for once inaccurate under
Mackerras’ rhythmically taut and brisk performance, where all four movements
were perfectly integrated and had a continuous pulsating projection that made
the work feel like one mammoth movement. This was as close to a paragon of an
interpretation as one is ever likely to get.

Here the
expanded Philharmonia – now with antiphonal
violins and doubled woodwind – transformed themselves and
played with much more verve, body and incisiveness. The only thing that let down
this performance was again the placing of the eight double basses along the back
of the platform, thus robbing them of projection and presence, making them
barely audible throughout. Part of the blame lies in the cramped QEH, which was
never really designed to take such large-scale symphonies.

In the first
movement Mackerras made the opening andante flow organically and
seamlessly into the allegro ma non troppo: too often this can sound
sectionalised with the andante often sounding too slow and ponderous.
Here there was a strong sense of forward drive and musical development with
Mackerras securing tautly measured tempi and buoyant rhythms, making the music
dance with swirling sound. Mackerras made the music sound really weighty whilst
also securing translucent orchestral textures allowing all the woodwind details
to shine through.

The
Andante con motto – like a menacing march - had a demonic drive with
Mackerras building up to the climax with rock steady assurance and dramatic
intensity with horns and trombones shining through with a glowing force: I have
only heard Toscanini bring such terror and intensity to this shattering climax.

The sombre
passages for solo horn and woodwind were well projected and played with style.
The Scherzo: Allegro vivace had the appropriate pulsating dance rhythms
and swaggering, lilting grace with the tough strings possessed of a rugged and
weighty earthiness.

The
concluding Allegro vivace had real verve and attack with Mackerras
thrusting the music ahead into a swirling vortex of sound, the music recalling
the last movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony with its wild and explosive
rhythms. The dissonant closing passages, with stabbing strings and punctuated
brass had a menacing, sinister sensation that again was reminiscent of
Toscanini. It was regrettable throughout that the timpani were placed so far
back stage and were barely audible, but one hopes they will be heard much more
clearly in the recording that was made of this enlightening and exhilarating
concert.